


Wolves (hungry like the)

by Trash



Category: Linkin Park
Genre: M/M, Werewolf!Brad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-21
Updated: 2013-11-21
Packaged: 2018-01-02 06:18:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1053492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trash/pseuds/Trash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The wolf in sheep's clothing is the most dangerous of all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wolves (hungry like the)

When Chester arrives at the bar with his rucksack hanging from one shoulder and his wire-frame glasses sliding down his nose Brad sniggers and Mike elbows him sharply in the ribs before getting to his feet. Hand shake hand ready Mike says, “Hey,” he says, “You must be Chester.”

It’s not really an audition - anyone waiting soon left the second Chester started to sing, and Mike had pretty much decided on behalf of everybody else that Chester would be the one. As the second verse starts Mike leans in to where Brad is sitting cross-legged on the floor beside him and whispers, “Don’t fuck this up, okay?”

But Brad isn’t listening, and when Chester is done singing and they’re all leaving the bar Brad presses his face to his neck and inhales deeply. “What do you smell like?” he asks.

Chester shrugs. “My car,” he says, “or maybe dope, I don’t know.”

Brushing his lips slowly against the soft, pale skin beneath them Brad says “Come back to my place.”

And Chester says, “Okay.”

***

The next day Brad makes a breakfast bigger than anything Chester has eaten for as long as he can remember. He laughs as he pads from the bathroom, rubbing his damp hair with a towel. “Wow, no guy has ever given me a rim job and made me breakfast.”

Brad smirks and snatches away the towel, kissing Chester on the cheek. “I’m not like other guys,” he says.

Chester takes it as a chat-up line when, in hindsight, it was probably a warning.

***

The day the band have an appointment to finally seal the elusive contract deal with Warner, Chester shoots up on the bathroom floor of Brad’s apartment to calm his nerves. It’s not a big secret, but he had told Brad he’d at least cut down on drugs. It’s hard, though, when you’re only someone people want to be around when you’re high.

He isn’t prepared for the bathroom door opening and he and Brad just stare at each other blankly. The syringe in his hand and the band around his arm, Chester has no way out of it.

Brad sighs deeply and runs a hand through his hair. “This…no…you can’t…I said, this wasn’t going to work. I said this had to stop.”

“And I said I’d cut down, Brad, but I’m nervous as fuck.”

“Warner Brothers aren’t going to sign a band with a strung out lead singer, Chester, don’t you get it? Nobody wants to be around people who are wasted. Mike doesn’t want to be around people who are wasted.”

Sleepily Chester laughs, “So this is all for Mike? Don’t you even give a fuck about what I want?”

Brad grits his teeth and makes a noise low in his throat and Chester pales. Suddenly Brad is on him, his teeth gleaming in the dim light of the bathroom. “None of this was ever about you,” he says, nipping at Chester’s ear, “I had to keep an eye on you, I had to know that you weren’t going to fuck this up for us, for Mike. He blames me when things happen but this is always, always for him.”

“Fuck you, asshole. So you just used me this whole time?” Chester hisses trying to push Brad away but he’s suddenly stronger, harder, his hands grip Chester’s wrists with more force than they used to and when he bites on Chester’s throat the pain…skin giving way to snapping teeth and blood runs hot, thick, fast.

Chester screams and screams until there’s no sound at all but Brad doesn’t relent, biting and tearing with teeth that give way to fangs and nails to tapered claws like razorblades.

***

At the meeting Brad keeps his hands clasped under the desk and writes himself a mental memo to buy some more bleach to clean the blood from the grouting of his bathroom tiles.

Mike doesn’t need to ask but does anyway. “Where’s Chester?” He glances around, his gaze settling on Brad.

Brad shrugs. “I think he got lost. I’m sure he’ll turn up.”

***

Two months later he does - his body found at a dump outside of the city. And when Mike sees it on the news he calls Brad and says nothing for a while. When he can form words he says, “Fine,” he says, “this time you choose the singer.”

And when he hangs up Brad smiles to himself, with teeth so sharp they could be fangs.


End file.
